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SUMMER MOTHS 

A Play in Four Acts 



WILLIAM HEINEMANN 



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THE DE WITT PUBLISHING HOUSE 
NEW YORK 



SUMMER MOTHS 



A PLAY IN FOUR ACTS 



WILLIAM HEINEMANN 

AUTHOR OF "THE FIRST STEP," " A DRAMATIC MOMENT " 



BUSniNG?^ 




NEW YORK 

THE DE WITT PUBLISHING HOUSE 

1898 



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Copyright, i8s>3, 

BY 
WILLIAM HEINEMANN 



r/te acting rights of this play have been protected 
and are reserved 



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THE PERSONS OF THE PLAY 

GENERAL SIR ROWLAND ST. GEORGE, K. C. B., 

aged 54 

PHILIP, his son, aged 25 

MRS. GROVER W. WATSON, aged 50 ) 

>• Americans 
MAUD, her daughter, aged 20 ) 

FLORENCE BENTLEY, lady-housekeeper and companion. 

aged 27 

KATE, parlour-maid, aged 26 



THE SCENE OF THE PLAY 

represejtis an old-fashioned panelled drawing- 
room in a country house, with French windows 
at the back leading to a terrace and park 
beyojtd ; a door down stage, right, leading into 
the hall ; and one dozvn stage, left, leading into 
an adjoining room. Next to the fireplace {left), 
there is a grand piano. The room is elegantly 
furnished, and is full of flowers and orfiaments. 
The panels are filled with port aits of military 
persofiages in historical uniforms. 



THE SEASON: August, 189- 

THE TIME 

The First Act takes place after Breakfast, 

The Second Act, at Tea-time, 

The Third Act, some time after Dinner, 

The Fourth Act, oti the following morning. 



THE FIRST ACT 



SUMMER MOTHS. 



Bright sunshine is streaming in through the ivindoiv. 
PHILIP sits in an armchair, reading the " Sports- 
man.'' kate enters, carrying a tray ivith a 
number of empty flower vases, which she places on 
a table close to philip. Kate is engaged in pour- 
ing water into these and t^nes to attract attention 
o/ PHILIP, u'ho reads determinedly. She upsets 
purposely a vase at his elbow and the water runs 
off the table on to him. 

KATE 

I beg your pardon, sir. 

PHILIP 

How clumsy you're getting! 

[He tries to settle himself again to read. 

KATE 

Oh, Phil ! 



PHILIP 

Confound it all, Kate! I will not allow you to be 
so familiar. Remember, once and for all, that / ana 
master and you are maid. 

KATE 

I beg pardon. Master Phil. It seems so difficult, 
almost impossible to get accustomed to that again. 
What have I done? Why have you changed? 

PHILIP 

I have not changed. It's all your fancy. But for 
your sake more than for mine these familiarities must 
stop. If we are found out, it's you who are ruined — 
not I. 

KATE 

Yes, but, Phil, my darling — I beg your pardon- 
Master Phil — could you not take a little, ever so little, 
notice of me when we are alone? You used to kiss 
me and hug me whenever there was a ghost of a 
chance. You would not let me go even when I felt 
sure that we must be seen. And now it is four 
months since you kissed me last and you try to avoid 
being alone with me. 

PHILIP 

And when we are alone, what then ? Once and for 
all, I won't have these scenes. Whenever I try to be 

4 



quiet, to read, or think, or rest, you thrust yourself 
into the room and pester me. 

KATE 

Oh, Phil! Don't say that. 
PHILIP 

When it's nothing else, it's the brat— confound it ! 
KATE 

No, Phil, I never talk to you of baby, except when 
I can't help myself. 

PHILIP 

You forget that it took all my cleverness to prevent 
the whole thing being found out, and I should like to 
know what would have happened to you if it had 
been discovered. You would have been turned into 
the street— mother and child, bag and baggage. 

KATE 

I know you have been kind to me— you used to be. 

PHILIP 

I have always given you money— all I could spare 
out of my miserable allowance. So what more do 
you want? 

KATE 

But, Phil, it is your child as much as mine. I know 

5 



youVe always been generous to me, but I want you 
not to hate me now — not to hate that poor innocent 
child. 

PHILIP 

Well, I'm not going to gush over it. It's hard lines 
on a chap, if he has the bad luck to become the father 
of a child like that, quite apart from the money it's 
bound to cost him. 

KATE 

I know, I know. You must feel disgusted; you're 
bound to be. But it isn't baby's fault! Oli, Phil, 
Fhil— [Coming up to him and trying to earless him. 
He repulses her] — I do wish you would just once look 
in at Mrs. Jackson's when you're down in the village 
and see the darling for yourself. She is the loveliest 
little angel in the world — the very image of you — 
such eyes and such a sweet little mouth, and the tini- 
est little hands and feet you ever saw. Sometimes I 
have felt as if I could not keep my secret, I was that 
proud of baby. Often I have wanted to bring her up 
to the house and say to master, " That is your grand- 
child; are you not proud of it? " 

PHILIP 

And I'd like to see the old man ! Gad, I would ! 
You'd find yourself in queer street after that, I can 
promise you. 

6 



KATE 

Do me this one favour — go and see baby once, just 
once. Promise me you will. She's fourteen months 
old now, and has never seen her father. 

PHILIP 

I shall do nothing" of the sort. The child's a nui- 
sance—a blasted nuisance. 

KATE 

If you only once saw baby, you'd think so different 
— you could not help yourself. Oh, Phil, she is 
simply lovely. And perhaps you'd be kinder to me 
again, just for your child's sake. 

PHILIP 

I've had enough of this now — do you hear that, 
Kate? You are never to speak to me again of this 
confounded affair. On the first of every month I 
shall put your money on my mantelpiece, on the un- 
derstanding that you don't bother me. The moment 
you do, I shall stop the money, and you and your 
brat can starve for all I care. 

KATE 
Phil, don't say that. You don't— can't mean it. 

PHILIP 
I advise you also, very strongly, to be careful about 

7 



yourself, what you do and what you say, almost 
what you think. If there is a suspicion anywhere of 
what took place last summer, when they were all 
away and only you and I in the house, you'll get the 
sack as sure as poison . [kate drops a vase. ] Clumsy, 
careless fool ! I wash my hands of you. I've done 
with you ! 

KATE 

[In tears.] Oh, you don't mean that, Phil— you 
don't, I know you don't — I could never live away 
from you ; and you promised — you know you prom- 
ised — and I am no more of a nuisance than I can 
help being. But I do love you, Phil, and I get mad 
when I see your goings on with— with that Miss 
Florence. There, I had to say it! 

PHILIP 

How dare you drag in Miss Bentley's name? I'll 
have you turned out of the house if you ever repeat 
that impertinence. 

KATE 

You're in love with her. I can see it, and that's 
why you hate me now 

PHILIP 

Out of my sight— before I forget myself. 
8 



KATE 

Ah, well ! ah, well ! I was foolish — I was foolish. 
[Collects the pieces of the broken vase and 
wipes up the water. Exit, philip, with a 
sigh of reliefs settles again to read his 
paper; he gets up nervously, lights a cigar- 
ette, and ivalks up and down the room. 

Enter from garden Florence, almost blind, feel- 
ing her way. She carries a basket of flowers, 
ayid tries to arrange them in the empty vases on 
tables, PHILIP helping her. In every movement, 
and particularly in the handling and selection 
of flowers, she displays her inability to perform 
the task she is engaged upon. 

FLORENCE 
Is that you, Phil ? 

PHILIP 

Yes, dearest. [He goes up to her and kisses her. 

FLORENCE 

Oh, Phil ! I am in such a state of excitement to- 
day. How shall I ever bear up under it all ? Now 
that your father is really coming home all seems so 
distant, so unheard-of, so impossible; and yet it 
must be. 



PHILIP 
And indeed it shall be. 

FLORENCE 

You know, Phil, I am almost frightened at all that 
you are giving me, when I think of how little I can 
offer you in return. This dreadful affliction makes 
me daily more useless and hopeless. Where should I 
be to-day, and where would my brothers and sisters 
and mother be, if you had not asked me to marry 
you, and insisted that that involved your becoming 
everybody's Providence. We should be penniless, 
all of us — penniless — starving, perhaps. It is dread- 
ful to think of — how dependent I must be on you 
always — always ! 

PHILIP 

Never think of that, dear, never! Why should 
you want to work, anyhow? Work, indeed, for one 
like you, who are fit to be the Princess in a fairy tale 
— who are, in fact, the one particular Princess in my 
particular fairly tale. 

FLORENCE 

Oh, Phil! you are altogether too good, too kind to 
me. I only wish I knew how I could ever repay 
you. 

lo 



PHILIP 

Well, well, you'll repay me for all this monstrous, 
unheard-of goodness by remaining always and for 
ever just as you are. 

FLORENCE 

That's the worst of it. How can I hope always to 
please you? I shall become older and much uglier 
even than I am now. 

PPIILIP 

You ugly! You'll always be lovely— exquisitely^ 
lovely always ! [Kisses her. 

FLORENCE 

I can't make out what you see in me, Phil. And 
I don't know why you love me — why [^t'ith a little 
shake in her voice] you respect me still. 

PHILIP 

I love you, dearest, because I can't help it— because 
it is you, because you are the bonniest girl in all the 
world. 

FLORENCE 

But can you still respect me, Phil? Can you? 
Men don't respect 



PHILIP 

Stuff and nonsense! We were young and loved 
one another, and naturally we were not made of 
stone. Now youVe to be my wife what does it, what 
can it matter ? No one will ever know. 

FLORENCE 

But you know and I know. Are you sure that 
you will never remember — never let me remember? 

PHILIP 

I'll clean forget anything and everything, only you 
must not look upon things so seriously, dear. 

FLORENCE 
But it is serious, very, very serious— fatally serious. 

PHILIP 

After all, it was all my fault. I persuaded you 
that you were getting every day less fit for your work 
and every day more fit to be my sweetheart, that you 
must give up the drudgery of it all, and be satisfied 
with loving and being loved. 

FLORENCE 

Oh, don't, dear, don't ! To imagine that you could 
have ever put such a thought in my head ! No, no, 
you must never think of it in that way. You must 
not for a moment — not now, and never, never in the 



future — fancy there was anything else in my mind 
than my love for you. If you did, or if you ever 
were to convince me that there was another motive, 
that thought would be terrible. It would kill our 
love. 

PHILIP 

My dear girl, you misunderstand me; you really 
do take things too tragically. I never thought of 
alluding to the pleasure it might afford you to be- 
come your people's fairly godmother. It never even 
occurred to me. No, Flo, indeed I know you loved 
me then as you love me now, and that in becoming 
what you have become to me you were giving me 
your whole heart and soul, with no other thought or 
impulse. 

FLORENCE 

I do love you, Phil, with all my heart. I am so 
happy when I hear you say that you love me, so 
happy. But suppose the General from a common- 
sense point of view thinks that I have schemed to win 
you. I am blind, or as good as blind. I suppose I 
should anyhow have to give up my occupation soon — 
because I am unfit really to be of use to any one. He 
might imagine I had thought of providing for my- 
self and for mother and the others, and that I did not 
love you quite — quite disinterestedly. 

13 



PHILIP 

No, no. Give the devil his due. The governor is 
not suspicious, and always gives one credit for the 
best of motives. 

FLORENCE 

I know — who better?— how generous and noble he 
is. But that's why it all seems the more strange — 
the more improbable. 

PHILIP 

It does seem rum, doesn't it, Flo, that you and 
your people and the governor and I — that we all shall 
soon be one big family? I wonder whether the 
governor will want them all to come and live here? 

FLORENCE 

Don't talk of such things. I'm dreading what the 
General may say, even to our engagement. I dare 
not think further. I feel such a mean, false wretch! 
He trusts and believes in me, however uneasy he 
may be about his scamp of a boy, who year by year 
gets himself into one mess or another! 

PHILIP 

That's all passed and over now, thank God ! 
FLORENCE 

I know, I know. Still, I was left behind on pur- 

14 



pose to look after you ; you must admit that. Your 
father made up his mind that he must travel either 
in my charming society and under my anxious care, 
but with a constant dread of some unheard-of scrape 
you were sure to have got yourself into 

PHILIP 

My usual summer scrape. Ha, ha ! 

FLORENCE ' 

Or — so as to have his disorderly offspring kept in 
bounds — he must go alone with his valet and with no 
gentle hand to tend him, no one to talk to and be 
amused by, unless it be some chance acquaintance of 
the road. 

PHILIP 

Well, considering what he writes about those 
Yankee women, he seems to have got on all right 
without you, and I have got on exceedingly well 
with you. Have I not? 

FLORENCE 

That's the trouble of it. You've got on much too 
well with me. And now that I'm to face the General 
I realise how very wrong I've done. And it's not 
only that : I am here to read to him when he returns, 
and I could barely make out mother's letter last 
night. I am here to see after the maids and the 
cook and the gg,rdener and the rest of them, and I 

15 



am unable to see whether the floors are swept, the 
windows cleaned, the pots and pans scrubbed 
bright; I don't know what flowers the gardener 
is growing, except that I see the distant colour 
effect; in fact, I am not only a faithless, but even 
a useless person, a person who is unfit to fulfil her 
duty, and who, indeed, has not hesitated to betray 
her sacred trust. 

^ [FLORENCE wipes her eyes. 

PHILIP 

If you regard me in the light of your trust, my 
lady of tears, I am not sure that the governor has 
not every reason to be satisfied. You have certainly 
kept me out of mischief and made me want to do the 
very thing he has been preaching and imploring me 
to do— to settle down and to marry. 

FLORENCE 

It's the wife — your choice — he'll find fault with 
this time. I wonder if he'll think you look improved 
since he saw you last? The worst of it is that I can't 
see you even, my beautiful boy, as clearly as I 
wish to. 

PHILIP 

You don't lose much. I am, after all, only an 
ordinary man. Fancy if I were blind and could not 
see you ! That would, indeed, be the irony of fate, 
i6 



because you are the prettiest, daintiest little soul in 
all creation, 

FLORENCE 

I wish I could believe you when you say that. 
Sometimes I am afraid that possibly I may not dress 
myself as nicely and tidily as I ought to do — that 
everything about me must betray my blindness. 

PHILIP 
StuflP and nonsense ! you as neat and natty as 

FLORENCE 

[Putting her hand on his mouth.] Sh ! I'll have 
no more flattery. If you are satisfied nothing" else 
matters. But how about the General? Do I look 
fit and suitable to become his daughter? Ha! ha! 
It makes me laugh. I, his daughter — I, a would-be 
interloper into liis family — I, who am really nothing 
else than a servant, a useless servant at that, and as 
blind, as blind as a moth. It is too curious, this 
blindness of mine. I can see every little detail of 
that picture over there and I can only see you quite 
dimly. 

PHILIP 

You are simply what they call long-sighted. 
Others are short-sighted— most people, in fact— one 
way or another. 

17 



FLORENCE 

It seems so odd that when I touch you I can barely 
see you, and Avhen I see you at all clearly, I am 
much too far away from you to touch you. Let me 
see: just stand where you are. [philip is close to 
the door near the footlights. Florence ivalks back- 
wards up stage.] So, now I see you clearer and 
clearer and clearer. [At the wiiidoic] There, now 
you are loveljM Oh, Phil ! you are lovely. 

PHILIP 

Don't be so ridiculous, you'll make me vain. 

FLORENCE 

No, don't move. [Coming doini stage slowly.] 
Dimmer and dimmer and dimmer and— and dimmer. 
But now I feel you, now I hold you, now I love you ! 
[Kissing him ivith rapture.] Oh, Phil! Are you 
sure that my blindness will never make you im- 
patient with me and never make you love me less. 
You know it will be very trying for you if I really 
do get quite blind. 

PHILIP 

But you w^on't— you shall not. What's the good 
of doctors if they can't cure so simple a thing as that? 
We'll go to Wiesbaden on our honeymoon and get 
Pagenstecher to put your eyes right. They say he 
can cure any sort of blindness — as long as there are 
i8 



eyes left to cure. He'll have no difficulty with these 
deep blue lakes of wisdom. [He kisses her eyes. 

FLORENCE 

Don't, don't call my eyes lakes. Lakes are full of 
water, and that means tears. 

PHILIP 

There shall never be tears in your dear, lovely 
eyes, if I can help it. I only wish I could snap my 
fingers at tlie old man, but I have no money and the 
old boy will have to stump up. 

FLORENCE 

And suppose he doesn't! Oh, Phil! I will never 
regret if you will only never cease loving me. But 
we've been mad and rash ! 

PHILIP 

Nonsense! All will be well and you will be my 
own little wife; just you leave the governor to me. 
He is as fond of you as of anybody, and after all, 
your father was a soldier like himself; your people 
have always been soldier-folk the same as ours. 

FLORENCE 

But what a difference ! You forget that my father 
was only a common sergeant, that my people are not 
gentlefolk, that your father took me away from them 

19 



and brouglit me up so that I could never be liappy 
and satisfied again in the sphere of my birth. 

PHILIP 

That's the very best reason for fixing yourself 
irrevocably where you are. Even if your father was 
not a gentleman he must have been a very fine 
fellow. And he would have brought you up as a 
lady, if he'd lived. 

FLORENCE 

He could not have afforded to do so— any more 
than mother could. 

PHILIP 

It is not your fault that your father was unable to 
provide for all of you. 

FLORENCE 

But it was in our greatest need that your father 
befriended us. It's that — my vile ingratitude — that 
makes me ashamed of myself. He always thought 
you should make a rich and splendid marriage. He 
will say you are throwing yourself away. 

PHILIP 

Oh ! he may be a little huffy at first, or surprised, 

but he will come round all right. On the other 

hand, he may take it as nice as can be. You never 

know what he will say. I bet level money he puts 

20 



liis glass in his eye, like this, and says solemnly, 
"Bless you, my children, bless you ! " But we shall 
see: he'll be here directly almost, if he really comes 
by this train. 

FLORENCE 

How shall I receive him? Will you tell him at 
once? 

PHILIP 

Yes, if you like; or no, perhaps we had better 
break it to him gently. Let him sleep here quietly 
the first night, and we'll tackle him in the morning 
after breakfast — that's the best time to get anything 
out of him. It is not only our marriage, you know. 
I may as well make a clean breast of it in once. 
There are my debts which he will have to settle first 
of all. I've had a deuced lot of heavy expenses this 
last year— unexpected expenses, and he'll just have 
to pay up and look happy. 

FLORENCE 

You are so reckless in money matters ; that's the 
trouble. Why, this brooch you gave me and this 
ring — they alone must have cost a great deal of 
money. You are so generous, Philip, much too 
generous. 

PHILIP 
That's quite impossible— even if I get into debt 



ever so deep — in giving you a pleasure. Oh ! it's not 
those few trumpery presents— it's not that. 

FLORENCE 

You will have to mend your ways, make no more 
debts, and settle down — down. 

PHILIP 

[Laughing.'] You are the governor all over; that's 
just what he'll say. Ah, well ! I suppose I am a bit 
of a bad lot. I'll bet you the first thing he asks you 
is what I have been up to : will want to know the 
worst about my summer scrape. As he can't per- 
suade me to become a soldier, I ought at least to look 
after the farm— that beastly Lower Farm — when he 
is away. Why, the place is not fit for a decent 
tenant. You can't grow a thing there to pay you. 
He might just as well have put two or three of the 
old pensioners on it, free of rent, instead of building 
them cottages all over the place. 

FLORENCE 

He would never do that. He is much too solicitous 
about their comforts. 

PHILII' 

People like that are accustomed to work like 
niggers, and they don't grumble if the quantity or 
quality of their rations varies from tirne to time, as 



is sure to happen on that farm. However, I've done 
my little best even there. This time I've been a very 
very good hardworking boy, I'm sure I have; and 
he's a curmudgeon if he doesn't say so. 

FLORENCE 

[Laughing.] I am not at all sure that he will say 
so. But there, we'll see. [Kissing him again.] 
Anyhow, you've been an angel to me. [The sound 
of carriage wheels on gravel is heard.] There's the 
carriage ! 

[She tears herself away from him and tries to 
arrange her dress, distancing herself from 
the mirror and looking into it from far off. 
PHILIP has gone out and left the door lead- 
ing to the hall open. 

PHILIP 
[Outside.] Hallo, governor, you do look well ! 

GENERAL 

[Outside.] Phil, my boy, I am glad to see you. 
John, you'll have to put the other horses in the 
carriage and drive down to meet tlie one o'clock 
train. No, no, let me see : send the 'bus down. 
There'll be luggage— lots of luggage— heavy lug- 
gage—infernally heavy. 



PHILIP 

[Outside still] Why, bless my soul, governor! 
What have you brought home? It sounds as if you 
had bought up half the Continent. 

GENERAL 

[Entering with PHIL.] Not mine, my boy. Ladies 
coming— two charming ladies. 

PHILIP 

I say, governor, that sounds a bit thick: comes of 
letting you travel about alone. 

GENERAL 

You young rascal ! No, no I I'll tell you all 
about it. [Seeing Florence.] Well, Flo, my dear, 
how are you? Fact is, looking better than ever. 

FLORENCE 

I am very well, sir, very well. I hope you are 
well— that the baths have quite set you up again. 

GENERAL 

Indeed, they have. Fact is, I feel my old self 
again— ten years younger — and as strong as I was 
before the war. 

FLORENCE 
I am so glad, General. You know, I have been 
24 



ever so nervous. After all, this was the first time 
you had been away quite alone. 

GENERAL 

I know; without my strict task-master, Florence 
Bentley. 

FLORENCE 

I was no stricter than I had to be. You see, you 
never would do what the doctors ordered you to do. 
I could hardly make you take your medicine, and, 
to tell the truth, I am not sure even to-day that you 
really took all the baths you were supposed to have 
taken last year. 

GENERAL 

Ah, well! never mind about that now, my child. 
Fact is, I did not do all that the doctors wanted me 
to do this year either. But nature helped and cured 
me, and here I am as fit as a fiddle, and what's more, 
fit for work. 

FLORENCE 

Work ! But you don't think of going back to the 
army again, surely? 

PHILIP 
Take up command again ? 
.='5 



GENERAL 

I am determined to offer my services again to her 
Majesty. God bless her ! Fact is, as long as a 
soldier is able, it is his duty and his privilege to wear 
her colours. 

PHILIP 

Now, if I were you, governor, I would settle down 
and lead the life of a country gentleman instead 
of 

GENERAL 

And be a lazy good-for-nothing like you ! Ah, my 
boy, I don't mean it unkindly, you know I don't. 
I'm glad you're enjoying your youth. Fact is, a busy 
life suits me — a busy life. See there, that's your 
grandfather ; that's your uncle, Phil [jjointing to the 
pictures on the ivalls], after whom you were named; 
that's your great-grandfather. We have always been 
the king's warriors, and I wish you, my boy, were 
more a chip of the old block. However, we can't be 
all alike, and I only hope your idle habits will never 
lead you into serious mischief — into disgrace. Fact 
is, such ancestors as yours, my boy, have a posthu- 
mous claim to respect. [To Florence.] And how 
has he behaved himself under your care, my girl, in 
my absence ? 

26. 



FLORENCE 

He has been quite— quite exemplary. Have you 
not, Phil ? 

PHILIP 

If only I liave satisfied you, that's enough for the 
governor, is it not ? 

GENERAL 

Fact is, I don't suppose he would tell you if he had 
been up to any of his old tricks, the young scamp. 
But I am glad, very glad, there has been nothing to 
scandalise you and the neighbours. 

PHILIP 

Oh, there has been no scandal, governor : not a 
suspicion of a scandal this year. I have barely been 
out of the house. 

GENERAL 

That's right, my boy. Domesticity is a fine thing. 
No man goes far wrong if he is really fond of his 
home. 

PHILIP 

You see it was very different in the house this year 
from what it generally has been when you were away 
in the summer. Flo made all the difference — made a 

27 



fellow comfortable ; whereas, when I was left alone 
with nothing but slaveys 

GENERAL 

I know, my bo3^ Fact is, we are both grateful to 
Flo for that and many other gentle acts and thoughts 
which have made our lives much happier than they 
could ever have been without her. 

FLORENCE 

Oh, General ! It's I who owe you everything. 

GENERAL 

Bosh, little woman! Fact is, you are a little 
brick — a little brick. How are your eyes, dear ? 
Better? I was distressed with what Phil wrote. 

FLORENCE 

I fear I am getting blinder and blinder, and soon 
shall be of no use to any one. 

GENERAL 

I hope it's not as bad as that, my child. I should 
miss our Half-hours with Great Minds, with you as 
the dispenser of other people's wisdom. 

FLORENCE 

I shall have to make place for some one with eyes 
that can see. I shall have to resign my post of 
teacher and preacher, and be— — 
28 



GENERAL 

Our good angel. I am very fond of you, my child. 
You are the daughter of a brave and valiant soldier, 
and I am happy to recognise in you that same unbend- 
ing sense of duty and honour that made your father 
the pride of his regiment. 

FLORENCE 

It was his good fortune that he served under a 
noble and generous superior. It was our good for- 
tune that you befriended his widow and orphans 
when he fell for his country. 

GENERAL 

Oh, I just did what I had to do. As for your not 
being able to read, it won't matter much during the 
next few days. You remember, Phil, my writing to 
you about Mrs. Grover W. Watson and her daughter. 
Miss Maud Watson. Fact is, they are on their way 
here. They are the owners of those unsealed moun- 
tains of luggage. They are coming by the one 
o'clock train, that is to say, if our ordinary local train 
is equal to their luggage. We travelled together 
from Aix, and they certainly were kindness itself. 
When we got to London I found them friendless. 
The few people they knew were out of town — natural 
enough in August. Fact is, they are so proud of their 
home and praised its beauties and attractions so con- 
stantly that I felt quite ashamed of poor, dusty, tired, 
29 



deserted London. I insisted on showing them our 
English country life, to counteract the depressing 
effect of the West End just now, with all its pave- 
ments up and all its blinds down. Fact is, I was 
afraid they might think it representative of English 
life in general. So I had to insist on their coming 
here. 

FLORENCE 

If they are to come so soon, I shall have to make 
arrangements immediately. 

[As she moves towards the door, kate enters. 

KATE 

I beg your pardon, sir, John says the 'bus is out of 
repair. 

GENERAL 

And the landau won't do, that's quite certain. 
Confound it ! I must send something ! Fact is, they 
have more boxes and trunks than I have ever seen 
together in all my life. Why do Americans travel as 
if they were never going home again? Phil, you go 
and see if you can manage it. Bring them up and 
their luggage somehow. You will easily recognise 
them. 

PHILIP 
I don't suppose there'll be many people. I shall 

30 



recognise them all right in the dazzling light of your 
glowing description of them. 

GENERAL 

^ You'll find it none too glowing. Go, my boy. 
Take a cart with the landau. Only you must lose no 
time. Mrs. Watson has beautiful white hair and a 
fine military profile. Reminds you of the Duke of 
Wellington. 

PHILIP 

Right, governor. I'll see to it. I'll bring them up 
by hook or crook. If necessaiy, I'll borrow two or 
three of the gipsy vans from the Lower Farm and 
we'll come up like a wandering circus. Ta, ta ! [Exit. 

GENERAL 

What a boy! Hum, hum! And the pensioners, 
how are they, my dear? 

FLORENCE 

As well as can be, all of them. Jarvis is getting 
very shaky on his legs, but he's well enough, con- 
sidering his age and all he went through after the 
war, before he came here. 

GENERAL 

He was a wild chap in his days. He is not so old 
as you would think. He has aged rapidly. It's his 
bullets, I suppose. Fact is, I should not like to say 

31 



how many he's got lodged in his body somewhere or 
other. 

FLORENCE 

They have been getting up the usual sort of wel- 
come for you. 

GENERAL 

That's the worst of it. I suppose I shall have to 
submit to it all after dinner to-night ? No, by the 
way, if those ladies are here, tell them to come to- 
morrow morning instead. 

FLORENCE 
I'll tell them to postpone it. 

GENERAL 
They might have their whisky to-night. 

FLORENCE 

They'd hardly trust themselves to be fit for the 
welcome to-morrow, poor old things, after that. 

GENERAL 

Ah well, just let them have it whenever they like, 
and if they forget all about the welcome over their 
grog, I'll forgive them and be glad. 

32 



FLORENCE 

Oh, no, General. Be candid! It pleases you to 
see the happmess and gratitude of these old people, 
who owe a comfortable old age to your generosity. 
You'd miss their welcome on your return, if they 
stayed away. It's touching and beautiful, their feel- 
ing for you. You should hear them talk of you, 
when you commanded them, of your brilliant deeds 
in battle, and the time when they picked you up for 
dead in Egypt. 

GENERAL 
Fact is, they are good chaps, always were. 

FLORENCE 

I often wonder why other officers who have fortunes 
don't follow your example. Government medals are 
all very well, but to be given a home, as you have 
given them, and comfort for their shattered frames, 
that's a very different thing. 

GENERAL 

They were brave men and did their duty. I'm 
doing no more. Other officers have other views, 
You don't understand these things. Fact is, no other 
officer ever had such men under him, from your 
father down to the rawest recruit. And now about 
Phil. I do hope that boy has behaved himself dur- 
ing my absence. The thought of his summer scrape 

33 



lias been the only thing that has interfered with per- 
fect enjoyment for me in Aix. 

FLORENCE * 

You may be quite at ease, indeed. You have no 
idea how kind and good Phil has been: he has 
changed altogether; he is a different man, he takes 
life quite — quite seriously now — thinks of his respon- 
sibilities and has plans, such beautiful plans, for the 
future. You'll see— you'll see — when you talk with 
him alone he'll tell you all — how he is determined to 
deserve everybody's respect, to have the follies of the 
past forgotten. You'll be kind to him and try to do 
what he asks, won't you, General ? 

GENERAL 

Why, of course, my dear. I have no wish except 
for the boy's happiness. I am truly delighted to 
have such good reports from you, Flo. I only hope 
it is as you say, and that there is no abominable 
secret to come out— as there generally is when I re- 
turn. 

PXORENCE 

No, no — you may be sure. There is no secret that 
I don't know. 

GENERAL 

[Laughing.] You women are easily deceived in 
these matters; but I'll see, I'll soon discover if there 

34 



is anything wrong-. I'll haul him over the coals in 
the morning-, and I only hope it is as you say. Fact 
is, I am getting on in life, and he must be preparing 
himself for the responsibilities of his future position. 
If I could only get him to adopt a profession— to 
engage in a regular employment of his time. Also 
he must learn the value of money; he will have 
plenty to live on, but none to waste, and that is a 
thing which he has not so far grasped. 

FLORENCE 

I must leave you now, General, to arrange for re- 
ceiving the ladies. I suppose if I give them the Ivy 
and the Iris rooms they will be most comfortable 
there. 

GENERAL 

Could they not have rooms nearer yours in case 
they wanted anything ? You see, they are strangers 
to many of our ways and customs. 

FLORENCE 

I don't think I can manage to put them up any- 
where near my room. 

GENERAL 

Well, you know best. Only make them comfort- 
able, I know I can trust you to do that. Fact is, this 
Mrs. Watson is a very remarkable fine old gentle- 

35 



woman, and her daughter is a beautiful angel, the 
sort of girl you don't often come across nowadays. 

FLORENCE 

How old is she ? 

GENERAL 

I should say about twenty. But she has more 
spirit, more determination than an English girl of 
that age. Fact is, she would know how to handle a 
man and keep him in order. A chap, for instance, 
like Phil. Just the wife for Phil ! 

FLORENCE 
[Interrupting.] For Phil? 

GENERAL 

Yes, for Phil ! If only he is as you say. She is a 
good girl, as good as ever lived. When I first saw 
her, I said to myself. That's the wife for my boy, the 
very wife! Flo, dear, you must help me in this. 
See if you can influence Pliil: it's all for his good, 
you know. Phil has confidence in you and you have 
influence over him, the best sort of influence. Fact 
is, he looks upon you as a sister. 

FLORENCE 

But, Phil 

36 



GENERAL 



No " but," my dear! Phil has a way of resenting 
any advice I give him: looks upon it as a sort of 
command, an attempt to interfere with his independ- 
ence. You are different, and he'll be influenced by 
you. I want him to take up some serious occupa- 
tion. It maddens me to see him idling and loafing 
about. First of all he must get rid of his flightiness 
-must become steady. That's why I want him to 
marry— to marry the right sort of girl. Fact is, I am 
confident Miss Watson is the most suitable young 
lady I know to become Phil's wife. 

[FLORENCE, as if petrified, tries to collect her- 
self to answer— unable to do so, she bolts 
from the r^oom. 



Curtain. 



37 



THE SECOND ACT 



The trees of the park are illuminated with a warm 
afternoon gloiv. 

The GENERAL and philip. 

GENERAL 

The ladies are having a long rest after their lunch- 
eon, and yet they did not seen very tired. 

PHILIP 

Tired— no, indeed not! And as for talking— why, 
coming from the station they asked more silly ques- 
tions than I ever heard asked before. They know 
nothing about country life. Guess they were raised 
in a city elevator — as they would say. 

GENERAL 

I wish you would speak more decently of those 
ladies. Fact is, I consider them most charming and 
refined gentlewomen. 

PHILIP 
So do J, governor ; but they are absurdly American, 
41 



now are they not? That's to say, the old girl is — 
Miss Watson hasn't much of a twang. 

GENERAL 

Personally, I rather like what you call their 

"Yankee twang." It's a d sight more musical 

than the supercilious mouthing of the young asses 
who hang about the Eag, whenever I go there. 

PHILIP 

That's a matter of taste. I shouldn't call it musical 
exactly — at least, not the voice of the old girl. Miss 
Watson speaks nicely enough. Then perhaps she's 
musical, so that she knows how to modulate her voice 
and make even her twang sound all right. 

GENERAL 

Miss Watson sings divinely. Fact is, people in 
Aix went mad about her singing. She has one of the 
loveliest voices I have ever heard — and she sings with 
so much feeling, so much heart — she reminds me of 
your mother, Phil. 

PHILIP 

I wonder whether I shall agree with you about 
Miss Watson's singing? You are prejudiced alto- 
gether — clean gone on these two Houris from the 
other side of the herring pond. 
42 



GENERAL 

Confound you, Phil ! I won't allow you to talk of 
these ladies in such a way. 

PHILIP 

I beg your pardon, governor. Straight, I think 
Miss Watson is a downright ripper. But I can't help 
laughing to see how completely they've both of them 
walked away with you. 

GENERAL 

How did Flo like them? Did she say? 

PHILIP 

She said nothing to me. Poor dear, she can barely 
see how pretty Miss Watson is. 

GENERAL 

It's too awful to think of poor Flo's getting blind. 
A most difficult problem that for me to solve. What 
am I to do if that poor girl gets entirely incapacitated 
for her work? Fact is, I love lier almost as if she 
were my own child. Her father was only a sergeant, 
but he became almost a personal friend of mine in 
those many years of service. I have seen her grow 
up, from a delicate babe to the sweet and gentle 
young woman she is to-day — till sometimes I almost 
fancy she must be my own flesh and blood. 

43 



PHILIP 

You'll have to go on providing for her mother and 
the other children, anyhow, I suppose. 

GENERAL 

Indeed — and gladly— as far as I am able. As 
regards Flo, I shall pay her salary as if she were 
doing her work, and she'll have to find out by degrees 
that she is being supplanted. I can't bring myself to 
tell her. Fact is, I shall have to find some one else to 
assist her without actually superseding her — some one 
who can look after things as she used to do, and read 
to me— although, for the matter of reading, I fear I'll 
never be satisfied with any one else. 

PHILIP 

Ah, well, governor, as far as Flo is concerned, I 
have got to speak to you seriously. The fact is, 
father — it — well — father — 

GENERAL 
Speak out, my boy, what is it? 

PHILIP 

[Hesitating.] Oh, never mind. Perhaps I had 
better wait and have a real business talk with you. 
I have got an idea in my head about Flo. 

44 



GENERAL 



Well, what is it? You are most mysterious; why 
can't you tell me what it is? 

PHILIP 

Never mind now, governor. I'd rather leave it 
with a lot of other things to talk about to-morrow 
morning-, as we always do— talk about business- 
after breakfast. 

GENERAL 

You talk about business! What is coming over 
you? Fact is, I've never had much business talk 
with you in the past. However, I'm glad if there is 
to be a change. Flo has spoken to me of your hav- 
ing become more steady and serious. I am glad of 
it— I am delighted. Give me your hand, Phil. The 
next thing for you to do is to think of something to 
interest you— some worthy object in life— an occupa- 
tion—work—work of all things. 

PHILIP 

Well, I have er—er— thought of that— of work; 
but there is so much to see to on the place— looking 
after the horses, exercising them, all the bother of 
the farms— that beastly Lower Farm in particular. 
Then I am bound to keep up the hounds, for the sake 
of the people round here. They look to me for that. 
I don't see how I am to find time for much else. 

45 



GENERAL 

What you are in the habit of doing on the place 
can be done, should be done, by others — not by its 
future master ; and as for your sporting inclinations, 
which I've always encouraged, they are, when grati- 
fied, all very well as pastimes, but they must never 
interfere with your business in life. Fact is, I want 
you to conquer and to occupy a dignified position in 
the world, Phil. 

PHILIP 

Candidly, governor, I don't know whether that 
would suit me at all. 

GENERAL 

Suit you, my boy? You are made for it. We are 
all of us made for it — we St. Georges. Look at your 
ancestors — they have for generations served their 
sovereign, been rewarded by their sovereign, and 
have made a place for themselves, each successively 
in his surroundings, which was honoured and re- 
spected and remembered. If a soldier's life is really 
unpalatable to you, so much the worse for you. But 
then you must choose some other career which is at 
least worthy of you and the traditions of the St. 
Georges. Fact is, when Mrs. Watson asked me what 
profession my son had, I was ashamed to have to 
admit that he was an idler. 

46 



PHILIP 

Ah, well, Americans think of nothing but business 
and money-making. 

GENERAL 

And if they do, so much the better for them. At 
least they have in America no hopeless class of idlers. 
Fact is, they have built up one of the finest Common- 
wealths the world has known in a shorter number of 
years than any other nation has ever done. And 
why? Because they realise that labour is the clock- 
work of life and painstaking the mainspring that sets 
the wheels in motion. 

PHILIP 

I don't think Mrs. Watson looks as if she came 
from a stock of labourers. She is dainty and fastidi- 
ous-looking enough, and her daughter is more like a 
Dresden china shepherdess than a real one. 

GENERAL 

It is because American men work that their ladies 
can be as they are, so refined, so graceful, and so ex- 
cellently cared for. 

PHILIP 

I don't see that they are in any w^ay superior to 
English women — blessed if I do ! 

47 



GENERAL 
I never said they were. 

PHILIP 

I don't suppose all Americans are like these two. 
The old girl looks like Queen Elizabeth. As for Miss 
Watson— ah, well— Miss Watson, she's the sort of 
girl every man is bound to fall in love with. 

GENERAL 

And I should not be sorry to see you fall in love 
with her. Fact is, you'll not come across a nicer girl 
in a hurry— I can tell you that. 

PHILIP 

Oh, I might like her riglit enough. It would not 
take me long for that. But it's impossible. The 
fact is that I am going to marry somebody else. 

GENERAL 

Going to marry somebody else? What do you 
mean? 

PHILIP 

All I shall tell you to-day is that the lady of my 
choice is not an American. 

GENERAL 
Well, Phil, I hope she is a fit and suitable com- 
48 



panion for you. I must say, Phil, I am sorry you 
should have chosen before you had seen Miss Wat- 
son, because I think her a most desirable young lady 
for any man to marry; but if your happiness lies 
elsewhere, I shall certainly not advise you to think of 
her for another moment. Won't you tell me who the 
lady is? Do I know her? 

PHILIP 

No, no ! To-morrow morning we are going to have 
a long business talk — to-morrow morning — and then 
I will tell you all about her. 



Enter Florence. 



PHILIP 



[To her.] Flo, I have just told the governor that I 
am going to talk to him of serious business to-morrow 
morning. You know what it is, but don't you let it 
out. 

FLORENCE 

[ With a sign to philip. ] Wild horses shall not drag 
it from me. 

GENERAL 

You have conspired, you two young wretches. 
This is most unfair, Flo, I would not have thought it 
of you. 

49 



FLORENCE 
But, General, I have promised not to tell. 

PHILIP 

You shall know it all to-morrow morning". 

[FLORENCE looks at PHILIP awkwavdly as if to 
encourage him to speak. 

KATE enters with tea-things. Florence hears the 
clattering of cups and busies herself at once with 
them. She is blushing and she holds her side as 
if her heart were palpitating. 

GENERAL ^ 

Ah, well! I am not in a hurry. I can wait. To- 
morrow then, as you two have decided to give me a 
sleepless night. 

PHILIP 

Ha, ha! You won't have a sleepless night; you 

will dream sweetly of Mrs. Watson and her dangerous 

daughter. [Timiing to Florence.] Won't he, Flo? 

[Pause. FLORENCE is silent and embarrassed, 

makes a sigii to philip to induce him to say 

something. He tries to brace himself to do 

so, when 

50 



Enter MRfi. watson, an elderly, heautifully-preserved 
lady with white hair, delicate features, and 
aquiline yiose ; and her daughter Maud, tall, 
vivacious, fair, ivith her hair combed over her 
forehead and ears. Both exquisitely dressed in 
the latest Parisian fashion. 

GENERAL 

Ladies, I am delighted to see you again. I hope 
you have rested and feel refreshed after the journey. 

MRS. WATSON 

[ With an American acceiit.] Oh, my dear General, 
we have not rested one minute. We have just un- 
packed our steamer trunks and got out our gowns. 
That is what you men don't understand. 

GENERAL 

I know, I know. A woman travelling— don't I 
know? Ha, ha! Takes with her every rag she has 
to her back — every trinket she owns— carries about 
her Lares and Penates in the shape of a scent bottle 
and a powder puff, and plants them on the hotel man- 
tel with a sense of safety that no general ever felt 
behind the stoutest walls. 

MRS. WATSON 

You are severe on us, General. These tactics are 
new— unexpectedly assumed— they are not what you 

51 



have accustomed us to. Mr. St. George, your father 
has been a cavaUer of cavaliers — protecting unpro- 
tected females on the tramp. Without him we should 
have known little, seen little, enjoyed little while 
abroad. He was the incarnation of useful knowledge 
and of chivalrous attention. We account ourselves 
among the few who have really profited by our ex- 
periences among strange people. 

PHILIP 

Yes, the governor is great at explaining, isn't he? 
And then he knows the lingo, which is more than I 
do. [To MISS WATSON.] Can you speak foreign lan- 
guages, Miss Watson? 

MISS WATSON 

Oh, I know French, German, and Italian, just as 
every educated person knows them. 

PHILIP 

My education must have been pretty badly neg- 
lected. I suppose in your country they would not 
think much of a fellow who knows more about the 
points of a horse than about French verbs. 

MISS WATSON 

Oh, no, Mr. St. George, we think none the worse 
of a man for that. Why, so many of our men are 
of necessity bound to devote all their time to their 
work, or have to start in it so early in life, that they 

52 



never get an opportunity of really improving them- 
selves. Indeed, there are even idle gentlemen in 
America who are just as ignorant as you. 



PHILIP 



Now that's unfair, Miss Watson; after all, if one 
does not know all about one thing, perhaps one may 
know more about another. 



MISS WATSON 

[Laughing.] Exactly, so, Mr. St. George, and I 
shall like you none the less because you have wasted 
your school days. 

MRS. WATSON 

[To GENERAL.] Indeed, I'm not tired-not in the 
least. From London here-I don't call that a 
journey-two hours through such delicious scenery. 
It was quite a pleasure ride. 

MISS WATSON 

You don't know how we enjoy the English scenery 
even after the Alps and France. All the trees and 
hedges in their exquisite verdure-so fresh and 
refreshing. 

MRS. WATSON 

The drive up from the station was quite too lovely. 
What a quaint, old-fashioned village you've got! 
53 



Why, do you know people in America would travel 
half across the continent to see the old cross and the 
church and the Manor House. Your son was very 
kind in pointing out everything to us as we drove by. 

MISS WATSON 

I wonder if you would mind taking me down to 
the churchyard — not to-day — to-morrow, or some 
other day, Mr. St. George? I took a great fancy to 
the place, and should like to look over the graves 
carefully. Mother and I are very fond of decipher- 
ing the inscriptions in your old churchyards. They 
are so quaint and curious, and we have quite a collec- 
tion of the oddest bits of sentiment with which people 
have commended the souls of their relatives to the 
mercy of God. 

MRS. WATSON 

Yes, and I keep an eye on the names. You see, 
we Watsons have never been able to definitely estab- 
lish where we really come from. There are so many 
Watsons. There are the Watsons of Yorkshire, the 
Watsons of Sussex, the Scotch Watsons, and ever 
so many others ; then there are all the hyphenated 
Watsons. It really is most bewildering. However, 
I do not despair, and I shall yet find our real home. 
I suppose it seems odd to you that we should be so 
curious about our English origin. 

54 



GENERAL 

Not at all, my dear Mrs. Watson, not at all. We 
are so proud and happy to claim you as cousins. 

MRS. WATSON 

You are really very kind, General. You see, all 
our family documents were lost in a conflagration. 

MISS WATSON 
And it's a blessing they were, mamma! 

MRS. WATSON 
Why, child? 

MISS WATSON 

I mean that if we knew exactly where we come 
from, and all about our ancestors — well, like you, for 
instance, General— mother would lose half her in- 
terest in life. 

MRS. WATSON 

I suppose you have quite an ancient family tree, 
General St. George? 

GENERAL 

You shall see the document, my dear Mrs. Watson, 
It is in the library; but, first of all, you must have 
some tea. 

55 



MRS. WATSON 

No, thank you, General. We don't in America 
take tea in the afternoon. 

GENERAL 

But won't you do so here? Can't I persuade you 
to adopt, just for once, this very innocent habit of 
the old home? 

[He brings her tea, which sJie fakes under pro- 
test. They then stroll on the terrace, 
where the general is seen pointing out 
and describing the scenery. 

MISS WATSON 
I should like some tea, anyhow. 

FLORENCE 

"Will you help yourself, Miss Watson? I had no 
idea that afternoon tea was so entirely unknown with 
you. I think I should miss it. 

MISS WATSON 

Don't you believe mother. You see, she's old- 
fashioned, and sticks to it that five o'clock tea spoils 
her dinner, pretending to ignore that since its intro- 
duction the dinner-hour has become about two hours 
later than it used to be, and that you really want 
something to keep you up between one and eight. 

56 



We younger people, almost all of us, have afternoon 
tea, just as you do here. 

PHILIP 

[To MISS WATSON, ignoring Florence, icho covers 
her emotion hy a little imnecessary clattering of tea- 
things.] I wonder if you would care for a drive 
before dinner. Miss Watson? I can have a pony put 
into a cart in a minute, and I might take you round 
the place. You know there's lots to be seen still. 
You only just got an idea of it coming up this 
morning. 

MISS WATSON 

I should like a drive very much, only you must 
give up all hope of interesting me in your cattle and 
your cart-horses. I don't care a bit for them. I love 
the woods and the meadows, the fields and the hedges 
—and the singing-birds— I love them above every- 
thing. 

PHILIP 

Then I'll just go and have the pony put in. 

MISS WATSON 

But how about mother and the General. Oh, there 
they are on the terrace. 

PHILIP 

I'm afraid the cart won't hold so many. 

57 



MISS WATSON 

I don't think I can drive with you alone. 
PHILIP 

Surely you— an American 

MISS WATSON 

[To FLORENCE.] Perhaps Miss Bentley will come 
with us. 

FLORENCE 

Oh, thank you. I'm afraid I can't. I have some 
things to attend to in the house. But please don't 
let me stand in your way. I mean, can't you go 
alone? 

MISS WATSON 

[Appealing to mrs. watson, who is on the point 
of descending with the general from the terrace 
into the garden.^ I say, Ma, do you think I should 
go out driving alone with Mr. St. George? 

MRS. WATSON 

Why not? Of course, my dear. You won't upset 
her, Mr. St. George, will you, or let her come to any 
harm? 

PHILIP 

You may trust me with the whip, Mrs. Watson. 
Ask the governor. 

58 



GENERAL 

Yes, Mrs. Watson ; he's safe enough behind a horse. 
I only wish he were as safe in all circumstances. 

MRS. WATSON' 

Very well, then. Good-bye, dear, good-bye. Mr. 
St. George, I hope you'll enjoy yourselves. The 
General is going to show me the gardens. 

[Descends with general. 
PHILIP 

I'll go and have the pony put into the shafts. You 
might put your bonnet on meanwhile, Miss Watson. 
I'll be round at the front ^oor in five minutes, wait- 
ing for you in as dapper a little turn-out as you'll 
come across anywhere in this neighborhood. [Exit. 

MISS WATSON 

[To FLORENCE.] Oh, Miss Bentley, I am real glad 
to get five minutes with you alone. The General has 
told me so much about you, that I've been dying to 
know you. 

FLORENCE 
You are very kind. 

MISS WATSON 

Come, let us be frieuds. I like you— I feel that I 
like you very much, and I'm so sorry for you. 

59 



FLORE^XE 
Really, Miss Watson 

MISS WATSON 
I want us to be friends— good friends. 

FLORENCE 

Don't you think that is rather a matter of time 
and experience — a matter — I mean friendship — that 
you can hardly be sure about on the first day you 
meet? 

MISS WATSON 

Perhaps; but don't you believe in a sort of fi-ee- 
niasonry among unmarried girls? I do. We gener- 
ally feel as if there existed a natural bond of sympathy 
among us American girls. We stand up for one 
another and we try to help one another. 

FLORENCE 
But how could I possibly help you? 

MISS WATSON ' 

You never know. I've been of tremendous help 
to girls I hardly knew in our country, and girls 
whose chance acquaintance I have made have ren- 
dered me services too, which were of greater help 
than what most of my friends were ever able to do 
for me. 

60 



FLORENCE 
What sort of service do you mean? 

MISS WATSON 

All sorts of services. Generally, of course, with 
regard to men. 

FLORENCE 

I fear I would be worse than useless at that, I 
know so little about men. You see, I've lived here 
all my life. I hardly know any man except the 
General and Mr. St. George— at least, not well 
enough to give or even have an opinion. 

MISS WATSON 

"Well, now, just those two. I suppose General 
St. George is a very fine soldier— or at least was in 
his day? 

FLORENCE 

Yes; I've been told that but for him England 
would have lost many a battle that through him she 
won. 

MISS WATSON 

How splendid ! What a fine old man he is, to be 
sure! [Musing]. And Mr. St. George? 
6i 



FLORENCE 

He is quite difPerent: he inherits none of the 
General's martial spirit; but he's a good, kind- 
hearted boy : he's very kind and so gentle and 

MISS WATSON 

Yes, I must say I did think him perfectly splendid 
the moment I saw him. I said to myself, "Now this 
is the sort of man a girl can't help admiring — the 
beau-ideal of manliness and strength and health ." 

FLORENCE 

Yes, indeed, he is all that. 

MISS WATSON 

I said to myself how lucky it was he lived in 
the country a wholesome, healthy life, away from the 
temptations of the world. I suppose he knows very 
little about women? 

FLORENCE 
I'm sure I don't know. Miss Watson. 

MISS WATSON 

Well, and what if he does down here? One knows 
the sort of girls he's likely to come into contact with 
here. I don't suppose country girls are very different 
in England from what they are in America. But 
tell me something about Mr. St. George. 
62 



FLORENCE 

Really, Miss Watson, I can tell you nothing that 
you cannot see for yourself. 

MISS WATSON 

But surely you must know what sort of love affau's 
he has had — whether he has ever been engaged to be 
married? 

FLORENCE 

Don't you think these questions had better be 
answered by Mr. St. George? 

MISS WATSON 

You show more feeling than I should have expected 
in this matter, Miss Bentley. I'm profoundly indif- 
ferent, of course, as to what Mr. St. George does or 
does not do. From what I heard about you I should 
certainly have expected more loyalty to your own sex 
than you seem to possess. After all, men are our com- 
mon enemy, and we should stand by one another, 
more particularly when there can be no question of 
rivalry. 

FLORENCE 

I fear it would be difficult for me to look upon men 
in the light of enemies. I am living under the roof 
of a man who has shown me more true and uncalled- 
for kindness than any member of my sex has ever 

63 



done, and if for no other reason, for that alone, 
I could trust him more entirely than I ever could any 
member of my sex. As for Phil — I mean Mr. St. 
George — I have been taught to look upon him — well, 
as a brother. I feel for him the same — perhaps 
a deeper— loyalty than many a girl does for her own 
brother. Forgive me, I mean no offence, but I really 
cannot discuss him with— a complete stranger. 

MISS WATSON 

Oh, well, my dear, don't distress yourself. It 
seems odd the way you talk of these people — as if you 
were one of them. I thought here you were— well, a 
sort of help. 

FLORENCE 

My father was a common soldier and I am proud of 
him for what he was. He fell in the service of his 
country — as glorious a death as man ever died. He 
was a common soldier and I should have been a com- 
mon servant but for General St. George, who gave me 
advantages which I was not entitled to. That is how 
I rose and became "a help." As such I know no 
other loyalty than my loyalty to him and his, which, 
by the way, reminds me that I have some orders to 
send into the village. You will excuse me. 

[She icrites, holding the paper far off and 
feeling her way on the sheet, miss watson 
looks out over the parlc, returns, sits doivn 
at the piano, strumming and humming. 
64 



Enter phiup, ivearing driving gloves, hut without 
hat. 

PHILIP 

Not ready yet? Why, I've been waiting at the 
front door these ten minutes, and the cob is getting* 

restless. 

MISS WATSON 

I think I'll not drive, Mr. St. George. Please for- 
give me. I would rather stroll with you about the 
grounds. You won't mind, will you? I really don't 
feel inclined for driving. 

PHILIP 

I'll do just whatever you like, Miss Watson; you 
have only got to command me. 

MISS WATSON 

I should like to go down to the lake, Mr. St. 
George. And you shall be polite and carry some 
bread for me to feed the swans. I'll go up and put on 
thicker shoes. These are too thin to walk on the 
grass in. I won't be a second. 

PHILIP 

As you like ; I'm quite at your disposal. 

[Exit MISS WATSON. 

65 



FLORENCE 
[ Under breath.] Oh, Phil ! Phil ! 

PHILIP 
What is it, dear? 

FLORENCE 

Oh, Phil, I am so unhappy ! Your father— they all 
Avaiit you to marry Miss Watson. 

PHILIP 
They can't make me do that — not the lot of them. 

FLORENCE 

But they are determined. She is so beautiful and 
so designing. 

PHILIP 

Little goose, don't be jealous. I must surely be 
polite to my father's guests. Be careful ! [He lights 
a cigarette and strolls towards the terrace.] Be 
careful ! 

[FLORENCE exit after ringing. 

KATE enters with tray to remove tea-thi7igs. She 
stands for a moment gazing at philip, w7io does 
not notice her. At the door she encounters miss 

WATSON. 

66 



MISS WATSON 

Mr. St. George. Have you seen Mr. St. George? 
Is he on the terrace ? 

KATE 

Mr. St. George ! I don't know, miss— yes, I mean 
he is on the balcony. 

PHILIP 

[Entering.] Ready to go? 
MISS WATSON 

Quite. 
PHILIP 

[To KATE.] Just get my straw hat, Kate, and bring 
Miss Watson some bread for the swans. Yes, and 
tell John I sliaivt want the cart after all. He can 
take the pony out again. 

KATE 

Ye-s-s, sir. [Exit ivith tray. 

PHILIP 

You know, Miss Watson, it has just occurred to me 
that I have only known two American girls in all my 
life. 

MISS WATSON 

Is that so? 

67 



PHILIP 

The first I knew— oh, never mind about tlie first. 

MISS WATSON 

This is very exciting. I want to know all about the 
first. 

PHILIP 

Never mind ! She is not worth bothering about. 

MISS WATSON 

I see ; and when you come across a third one you 
will say, never mind about the second— she is not 
■worth bothering about. 

PHILIP 

Indeed, no. Miss Watson. Indeed, she wasn't like 
you. In fact, I never thought Americans were quite 
like you. 

MISS WATSON 
In what way do you mean? 

KATE enters, handing hat and paper hag to philip. 

Exit KATE. 

PHILIP 

Well, you see, the other one was such a wild, 
racketty sort of a girl, and I thought to myself if these 
American girls, that so many fellows go mad about, 
68 



are all like this~I thought English gh'ls were more 
my form. But you are altogether different. 

MISS WATSON 

[Laughing.] You English are really very funny. 
Because you come across one vulgar American, all 
Americans must be vulgar. Your conclusions are 
too naive for words, and I should not be surprised 
if you were convinced that we are really a semi- 
barbarous nation — thought we lived in wigwams on 
Fifth Avenue, and were convinced that we scalp 
foreigners as they land. 

PHILIP 

No, no, Miss Watson; don't misunderstand me 
purposely. You know what I mean. 

MISS WATSON 

Mr. St. George, I do not know what you mean. 
You have had an unfortunate experience with a 
vulgar American woman, and therefore do not 
hesitate to express surprise when you come across 
an American woman who is— well, not vulgar, not 
unpleasant, not an absolute dunce, and perhaps 
rather nice looking. Mr. St. George, I am conscious 
of a personal compliment; but I assure you it is 
wiped out in my patriotic mind through the slight 
I feel it implies to my countrywomen. I think 
I have a right to be indignant. Be careful — I am 
very, very patriotic. 

69 



PHILIP 

Indeed I meant no wrong. I am sorry. I beg 
your — I mean America's pardon. 

MISS WATSON 

Ah, well, then I forgive you. But you must never 
again think or say anything that is not entirely 
charming about American women — or in fact about 
anything American. 

PHILIP 

I promise. And let me hereby seal my vow. 

[Handing miss watson out on to the terrace, he 
tries to kiss her hand, which she withdraivs. 
FLORENCE eutcrs and sees philip bending 
over MISS watson's hand. She starts, makes 
a rapid step as if to follow, then stops; and 
as they disappear she goes up to the ivin- 
dow, followhig them with her eyes. She 
turns tvith a cry, comes down, sits motion- 
less with dilated terrified eyes for a minute, 
and then bursts into sobs, burying her face 
in her handkerchief. 



Curtain. 



70 



THE THIRD ACT 



The French window leading to the terrace is wide 
open and reveals a beautiful star-lit night. 

The GENERAL, MRS. WATSON, and FLORENCE. 

KATE 

[Comi7ig in from the terrace.^ Mr. St. George says 
he will be in directly, and that it is not damp. 

MRS. WATSON 
Miss Watson is with Mr. St. George? 

KATE 

Yes, mum, and if you'll forgive me, mum, I think 
it very dangerous for the young lady to be out there 
on the lake in her low-necked dress on a night like 
this. 

FLORENCE 
Really, Kate! 

MRS. WATSON 

[She stares for a moment at kate, tvho is con- 
fused— then turning to general.] That girl of mine 

73 



is really too trying! I only hope she won't catch 
cold. 

GENERAL 

Young people will be reckless. It's the worst of 
them. They'll be in directly, I suppose. However, 
perhaps I'd better fetch them myself— that will be 
the shortest way. Kate, get my hat. 

FLORENCE 
[To KATE.] And his coat as well. 

[Exit KATE. 

GENERAL 

That young scamp of mine never thinks that 
women are more delicate tlian he is. Fact is, he can 
stand anything. Nothing ever hurts him. 

MRS. WATSON 

What a blessing it is to have such robust health. 
My girl is pretty sound, too. But I think they had 
better come in, and it is very kind of you to be will- 
ing to go out for them, General. 

KATE enters ivith the general's coat and hat. 
GENERAL 

I shall not want my coat, Kate, thank you. 

74 



FLORENCE 

You liad better put it on, General. It is cooler 
here at night than at Aix, you know. 

GENERAL 

Ah, well ! perhaps you are right. Anyhow I know 
it's useless to attempt opposition. Mrs. Watson, let 
me warn you of Miss Bentley. Fact is, she rules 
w ith an iron hand, and brooks no opposition. 

MRS. WATSON 

Miss Bentley is very wise. Men should always be 
ruled with determination. [Ejcit general. 

Won't you come over here, my dear, and sit by 
me? I should like to have a chat with you. 

[FLORENCE moves over. 

MRS. WATSON 

[Continuing.^ I want to tell you that I appreciate 
very highly your devotion to our dear friend the 
General. He says there is no one like you in the 
world. 

FLORENCE 

The General thinks much, much too well of me. 

MRS. WATSON 

It is good to see men really appreciate a nice girl. 
They so rarely appreciate goodness and sterling 
qualities in women. 

75 



FLORENCE 
I think men are veiy generous. 

MRS. WATSON 

You don't know tliem as I do, my dear. Youth, 
spirits, and a pretty face, when those have gone men 
seldom think much of you. Beyond that there is 
only the affection of a parent that lasts, and really 
the General seems to look upon you almost as his 
daughter. 

FLORENCE 

This house has been my home ever since I was 
seven. 

MRS. WATSON 

Then you were practically brought up with j'oung 
Mr. St. George? I suppose he looks upon you in the 
light of a sister? 

FLORENCE 

Mr. St. George cares for me as much as any brother 
cares for his sister. 

MRS. WATSON 
Oh, really? 

FLORENCE 

You see, ours is a " Wahlverwandschaft " — a sort 
of ''elective affinity." 

76 



MRS. WATSON 

Then you would miss him very much, I suppose, if 
he left here. I mean went to live elsewhere. 

FLORENCE 
He will never do that. 

MRS. WATSON 

Still, he might take up some occupation that forced 
him to be elsewhere. He is very young-, is, I sup- 
pose, bound to do something — to take up a profession, 
or engage in some business. Besides, he might get 
married, and his w^ife might want to live elsewhere. 
It is not likely that a young woman such as he would 
marry would care to bury herself all the year round 
in the country. 

FLORENCE 

Phil's wife would be content and happy anywhere, 
as long as she were near him — I mean — Mr. St. George 
is bound to marry some one fond of country life. 
He would never care for life away from here. This 
place has been in the family of the St. Georges for so 
many generations, that, out of sheer liabit, they can- 
not live away from it. It seems as if they had literally 
taken root here. 

MRS. WATSON 
But does Mr. St. George never go to London? 

77 



FLORENCE 

Very rarely, and he barely stops there a day, if he 
can help it. 

MRS. WATSON 

That is curious. I thought the General rather 
complained of the boy's getting into scrapes? 

FLORENCE 

London is not the only place where people get into 
scrapes. Phil— Mr. St. George— has given the General 
a little anxiety occaisionally in the past. But he is 
steady enough now. 

MRS. WATSON 

I am glad you say so. The General is very, very 
fond of his boy, and he certainly seemed a little appre- 
hensive when he spoke of him. 

FLORENCE 

He might have spared himself that anxiety. It 
seems a pity that he should have spoken to strangers 
abroad of a few boyish indiscretions, which are alto- 
gether matters of the past. Forgive me, I don't 
mean to be rude. Only it does seem a pity, doesn't 
it? 

MRS. WATSON 
Never mind, my dear. I shall think none the worse 

78 



of the boy on that account. If any young man were 
anxious, for instance, to marry my little girl, I should 
be relieved rather than otherwise to know that he had 
sowed his wild oats, so that he could enter into 
married life with no dangerous curiosity for the 
forbidden. But those are things you can't under- 
stand. 

FLORENCE 

I think I understand what you mean, Mrs. Wat- 
son. 

MRS. WATSON 

Then you are very sensible. I must say I thought 
it a little risky of the General to have left his " scamp 
of a boy," as he insists on calling his son, in a country 
house alone with a young girl of twenty-odd years, 
and I could not help telling him so. 

FLORENCE 
You told him so ! 

MRS. WATSON 

Yes, indeed I did! Men never think of these 
things— the best of them don't. And then they are 

surprised when But all's well that ends well! 

And I am quite reassured now that I know you. Ah, 
here they are ! 

79 



PHILIP, and MISS watson. 

Maud, you are really too unreasonable to run such 
risks. I am sure it must be cold and damp out of 
doors. 

MISS WATSON 

Indeed, no, mother. Mr. St. George rowed me 
about on the lake, and we went quite to the other 
end. The house seems a fairy palace from there. 
You have no idea how lovely it looks with its win- 
dows lit up and with all the tapering reflections in 
the water. 

MRS. WATSON 

I only hope you have not caught cold. It's too bad 
of you, anyhow, to have made the poor General go 
after you. 

MISS WATSON 

I am really very sorry. General. Will you forgive 
me? 

GENERAL 

Forgive you, my dear ! Bless your dear little soul ! 
It was a pleasure. Fact is, you're not to blame; it's 
that young rascal who is at fault. 

PHILIP 
Governor, I assure you it was ever so warm, and 

80 



Miss Watson can't possibly have caug-ht cold. Besides, 
she had my dress-coat over her shoulders while I was 
rowing. 

GENERAL 

All right, let's say no more about it. And now, 
Miss Watson, if your expedition has really not 
affected you, you are to prove it by giving us a song, 

MRS. WATSON 
Is it not rather late, General, to begin singing? 

GENERAL 

No, no, it's not too late. Just let her sing one 
song. 

MISS WATSON 

Of course I will, and with pleasure. What shall it 
be? Have you any preference. General? You know^ 
all my songs, or nearly all. 

GENERAL 

Whatever you like, my dear, as long as your heart 
is in it. Not one of those Wagner things. Your 
heart can't be in them. You are always at your 
best when you follow your own inclination. I dis- 
covered that in Aix. 

8i 



MISS WATSON 

[Rummaging in a portfolio which has been placed 
on the piano, and which she has unlocked. I sup- 
pose I am very human. Let me see— yes, this will 
do. [To PHILIP.] Do you remember those big moths 
we saw hovering over the fiower-beds when we first 
went out? Curiously, they made me think of this 
song. I have not looked at it for ages, but somehow 
I tliink I should like to sing it to-night. 

PHILIP 

Let me see the title. "Summer Moths." That's 
rather an odd name, isn't it? 

MISS WATSON 

I think it a very charming name ; it's a beautiful 
pathetic little song, if I can only do it justice. 

[Sings.] 
A summer moth on a cornice high 
With longing dreamt of days gone by, 
When she, a brown little chrysalis, knew 
Not shiver of cold nor damp of dew. 

For never there was such a sensitive thing 

As a summer moth that was born in spring. 

A maiden heaved a weary sigh, 

And a bitter tear-drop stood in her eye, 

As she dreamt of her innocent girlish state 

When she knew neither envy nor love nor hate. 

82 



For never there ims such a sensitive thing 
As the heart of a maid ivho is wooed in spring. 

But ivinter follotced with wind and frost, 
And that poor little summer moth was lost : 
A7id maid was tveak and man was strong, 
And that is the end of my sad little song. ' 
For maid, like moth, poor sensitive thing. 
Can taste but once the rapture of spring. ' 

[FLORENCE has during the last verse of the 
song crept, with half-concealed emotion, 
out on to the terrace. 

GENERAL 

Capital! capital! [clapjoing his hands. To MRS. 
WATSON.] Your daughter is really an artist-a splen- 
did artist. 

PHILIP 

[To MISS WATSON.] Thanks, awfully. It's a bit 
gloomy, that; but you do sing beautifully. 

MRS. WATSON 

[To GENERAL.] Marcliesi taught her admirably, 
don't you think so? 

GENERAL 

Her voice gives me a thrill, as if I were twenty 
instead of being fifty. You must not think of taking 
83 



that girl away too soon, Mrs. Watson. It will be cruel 
to deprive me of her singing. Miss Watson, you 
should consider yourself one of the happiest of mor- 
tals, to be able to afford so much pleasure to others. 

MISS WATSON 

It makes me very happy to know that my singing 
pleases you, and you must never mind asking me to 
sing if you really want to hear me. I shall be glad 
at all times to do so while I'm here, just to show you 
how grateful I am for all your kindness to us. 

GENERAL 

But when you go — but you must not think of that 
for a long while. Fact is, I only wish I could keep 
you here altogether. 

MRS. WATSON 

You are too kind— too good to that girl —much too 
good! You have no idea how harassing American 
women are in the long run, and how exigeantes. 
But you'll soon find out— soon enough! At least 
we'll relieve you this evening. Good-night, General 
[shaking hands ivith the general], good-night. 

GENERAL 

Good-night, Mrs. Watson. I hope you will rest 
well the first time you sleep under my roof. 

[MRS. WATSON skukes hands with philip, who 
is talking intently to miss watson. 
84 



MRS. WATSON 

Come, Maud, come! 
MISS WATSON 

All right, mother? [Exit MRS. watson. 

GENERAL 

[Following.] Let me lig-lit your candle for you. 
MISS WATSON 

Good-night, really now. 

[Offering her hand, ivhich philip takes and 
holds. 

PHILIP 

Good-night! And just you think over what the 
governor said. We shall never let you go; you'll 
have to make England your home. 

MISS WATSON 

Oh, no, Mr. St. George, indeed, No! I am an 
American, and I love my country dearly! It would 
take a great deal of persuasion to keep me away from 
it for any lengthy period, and as for leaving it alto- 
gether 

PHILIP 

I wonder whether you really are so patriotic that 
nobody could persuade you — if, for instance, I could 
if I tried ever so hard? 

85 



MISS WATSON 

You? What an idea! I don't think you would 
have a ghost of a chance. Why, I hardly know 
you. 

PHILIP 

And yet I feel as if I had known you all my life. 

MISS WATSON 

[Trying to 7'elease her hand.] All your life, in- 
deed ! Just you wait till you know me a little better. 
Two or three days may suffice to change your opinion. 
But I must really go to bed now. Won't you let my 
hand go? 

PHILIP 
Your hand— Oh 

MISS WATSON 

How odd you are ! Do all Englishmen act as you 
do toward young ladies the first day they see 
them? 

PHILIP 

I don't know what other Englishmen do with 
other American girls. I don't suppose any other 
Englishman ever before saw such an American 
girl. 

S6 



I\IISS WATSON 

Tut, tut! You are silly [releasing her hand.] 
Good-night. Good-night. 

[Exit. 

PHILIP 

Good-night, and 

MISS WATSON 
[Outside.] Good-night, General. 

GENERAL 

Good-night, my child. God bless you ! [At door.] 
Good-night, Phil. 

PHILIP 

Good-night, governor, good-night. 

[As PHILIP turns from the door he sees Flor- 
ence's hack on the terrace ; he crosses stage 
and retires quickly to the right, locking the 
door after him, and ignoring Florence's call 
''Philip!'' as she turns, facing the stage, 
and sees his retiring form. She comes for- 
ward, irresolute ichat to do. Her eyes are 
very red. She listens at the hall door, hav- 
ing fi^^st closed the windotv and drawn the 
curtains. Having assured herself, she 
crosses to Philip's door. 
87 



FLORENCE 
Phil, Phil! [She knocks.] Phil, don't you hear me? 

PHILIP 
[From ivithin.] Who is it? 

FLORENCE 
I, dearest ! I want to speak to you. 

PHILIP 
Not to-night. I am tired. 

FLORENCE 

But I must see you for a minute— I must. Just 
open the door; I won't keep you a second. 

PHILIP 
It's too risky, now they are all back. 

KATE entering, remains at the door. 

FLORENCE 

They've all gone upstairs, and I only want to speak 
to you for a minute. 

PHILIP 

Go to bed, dear, I am tired to-night. I am in bed 
and want to go to sleep. 

2>2> 



\ 



FLORENCE 

Oh, Phil, Pliil ! don't be unkind ! You can't be in 
bed. You have only just left this room. Phil, 
please— Phil, dear Phil! Do you hear me? 

[Trying the door. 

PHILIP 

I beg" you to leave me alone to-night and to go to 
bed. I shall not open this door. 

FLORENCE 

Do you hear me, Phil? Will you promise to speak 
to the General to-morrow morning? 

PHILIP 

I shall promise nothing if you don't go away now. 
For your own sake go to bed. You are excited, and 
if they hear you, don't blame me for the conse- 
quences. 

FLORENCE 
Oh, but Phil, it's only for a minute. 

PHILIP 

I shall answer nothing more. I am going to sleep. 
Good-night. 

FLORENCE 
[In great excitement.] Oh, Phil, Phil! just one 
89 



word! You will be true to me? Dearest, dearest! 
you will be true to me? For God's sake end this sus- 
pense! That American — Miss Watson — whom they 
are throwing at you ! Phil, you won't give me up? 
Phil, answer! I can't stand it. Oh, Phil! be kind. 
Say you love me— I am on my knees here ! For God's 
sake, Phil, don't kill me! On my knees I beg you 
for one little word of comfort [kjiockmg louder and 
louder]. Phil, if you desert me, if you take back 
your word, I shall die ! Phil, I shall die ! Can't you 
hear my agony? Listen, Phil! One word — just one 
word, and then I wall go away and be happy and 
sleep and dream of you, and know you'll be true. 
Oh, Phil, don't torture me. 

KATE 

I think you are worrying in vain, miss. If he 
won't open the door, he won't. I know him. 

FLORENCE 

[Violently.] How dare you speak to me? 

KATE 

[Advancing.] I beg your pardon, miss. I could 
not help hearing your carryings on. 

FLORENCE 
Don't speak to me ! 

90 



KATE 

But I must speak to you, miss, and I don't care 
what happens after. 

FLORENCE 

Go to your room at once ! 
KATE 

I came here to put out the lights. 
FLORENCE 

I will put them out. 

KATE 

[Undecided, then suddenly casting all reserve 
aside.] I tell you, miss, he is mine— mine ! And it's 
wicked of you to come between us. 

FLORENCE 

How dare you speak to me in that tone? 

KATE 

I'm past tliinking of the tone I speak in now, miss. 
You can turn me into the street if you like— you can 
tell them all if you like, and what you like. But you 
can't— you shall not— take him from me ! 

FLORENCE 

What do you mean, girl? Mr. St. George and I 
are engaged to be married. 

91 



KATE 

He will never marry you — never? He will treat 
you as he has treated me. 

FLORENCE 
He can never have promised you 

KATE 

Promise! What has he not promised? He prom- 
ised — shall I tell you what he promised? He prom- 
ised to be a father to his child— his child — do you 
hear? — his child and my child ! 

FLORENCE 
You lie! 

KATE 

Lie? Come down with me into the village, and I 
will show you. Ask him, and if he denies it — see for 
yourself if nature has not marked the child, so that 
no one can mistake its father. 

FLORENCE 
God help me [grasprng]. Air, air! [faints.] 

KATE 

For God's sake! what is it, Miss Flo? Come, Miss 
Flo! get up. What is the matter? Oh, God! what 
have I done ? [She rubs her hands, trying to 
92 



revive her; goes to the hack. She draws the curtain 
and opens the tvindow ivide.] Miss Flo ! Oh, what 
shall I do? Master PhiJ, Master Phil! [hanging his 
door.] For the love of God ! Miss Flo has fainted. 
Help, help! 

[She runs out, returns with water, a?id 
sprinkles Florence's /ace, who revives a lit- 
tle. KATE lifts her and walks the half-con- 
scious figure— supporting it in her arms- 
out of the room. 



Curtain. 



93 



THE FOURTH ACT 



The atmosphere is slightly dull at first, but the sun 
soon breaks through the mist and shines brightly 
into the room, as in the first Act. 

MRS. WATSON, and the general are standing on the 
terrace. 

MRS. WATSON 
There they are ! 

GENERAL 
They have been to the stables. 

MRS. WATSON 
What a handsome couple they make. 

GENERAL 

Indeed they do: your girl is a perfect queen in her 
bearing. How splendidly she walks I 

MRS. WATSON 

And I am sure your son is very, very distin- 
guished-looking. I do admire your open-faced 

97 



athletic English boys. You have only to look at 
them to read them to the core. 

PHILIP 

[On steps.] I have shown Miss Watson over the 
stables, but she doesn't seem to care for horses. 

MISS WATSON 

[Just visible.] On the contrary, I admired your 
horses very much indeed, General. But now I 
should like to go to the flower garden. Mother, will 
you come with me, and let the gentlemen enjoy their 
morning smoke? 

MRS. WATSON 

With pleasure, child. We will relieve you, gentle- 
men, for a little wliile, and return to a renewed 
charge. 

GENERAL 

[Laughing.] Then we must fortify our bastions and 
see to the ammunition. 

MRS. WATSON 

By the way, I have not seen Miss Bentley this 
morning. I wonder whether she would not like to 
accompany us? 

PHILIP 
You will probably find her either in the fl.ower 

98 



or in the kitchen garden. She always goes there in 
the morning. 

MRS. WATSON 
Very well, we will look for her. 

GENERAL 

Oh, Mrs. Watson. [Calling after her.] You may, 
by the way, be interested in a little ceremony which 
takes place annually here on my return from abroad. 
Fact is, I keep a few of my old soldiers as pensioners 
on the place : it does them good, poor old cripples, to 
be looked after, and I love to have them near me. 
War brings the classes very near together. When I 
return, these good folk make a point of giving me a 
sort of oflBcial welcome, a speech or two, many cheers, 
and a song to wind up with. If it interests you to 
witness the little ceremonj^, you had better get back 
here in about half-an-hour. 

MRS. WATSON 

[Fi'om the terrace.] Indeed, I should like to see it 
very much. 

MISS WATSON 
And so should I. 

MRS. WATSON 
We will be back in ample time. 
99 



MISS WATSON 
So long, then. [MRS. and Miss watson exeunt. 

GENERAL 

That reminds me that I have not seen Flo this 
morning either. If I am not mistaken she had not 
been down to breakfast when I left the dining-room. 
Ill just ask Kate where she is. [Rings. 

PHILIP 

She is sure to be somewhere about the house or the 
garden. I have not seen iier myself. 

GENERAL 
Odd, is it not ? 

Enter kate. 

GENERAL 

Have you seen Miss Bentley, Kate? She wa.s not 
at breakfast. 

KATE 

I fear Miss Bentley is not quite well. She was 
poorly last night and I had to put her to bed, sir. 

GENERAL 
What was the matter? 

IGO 



KATE 
She had a shock, I think, and she fainted. 

GENERAL 
But where and how? 

KATE 

I found her here in the drawing-room when I 
came to put out the lights, and she seemed fearfully 
excited. 

PHILIP 

Over-fatigued, I suppose, a little hysterical excite- 
ment ; she is probably quite well by now. 

KATE 

Oh, no. Master Phil, it's not so small a matter as 
that ! It will take more to cure her than a night's 
rest, if she's had even that, poor thing. I stayed 
with her till she slept. It was near three when I got 
to bed myself. 

GENERAL 
You worr}^ me. What was the matter? 

KATE 

Oh, perhaps, sir — perhaps Miss Bentley had better 
tell you herself, or perhaps Master Phil knows. 

lOI 



GENERAL 

Miss Bentley — Master Phil — I don't understand. 
Phil, what does she mean? 

PHILIP 
Had Kate not better go up and see how Flo is? 

GENERAL 

Yes, you are right. Go up at once and see if she 
wants anything. 

KATE 

I was up there a little while ago. All seemed 
quiet, so I thought I had better not disturb her. 

GENERAL 

Go up again, open the door quietly, and see how 
she is. Don't disturb lier if she is asleep. 

KATE 
Very well, sir. [Exit kate. 

GENERAL 
What is this, Phil? What does it all mean? 

PHILIP 

It's no good beating about the bush! Well, then, 
governor, what do you say ! Shall I marry Florence 
Bentley? 

I02 



GENERAL 

Marry Florence Bentley? "What the devil do you 
mean? Marry Florence Bentley? Fact is, you shall 
not marry Florence Bentley. 

PHILIP 

All right, governor, don't excite yourself. If you 
won't have it, I suppose I can't marry her. Only I 
don't quite see how I can help doing so. 

GENERAL 

Help doing so? I don't understand you. Explain 
yourself. 

PHILIP 

The fact is, governor, I am very fond of Flo, and 
she loves me, that's what's the matter. And we are 
engaged to be married. 

GENERAL 

Oh, you are engaged to be married. Are you 
though? Well, of course, this does not concern me, 
so the less said about it the better. 

[Pause.] 

PHILIP 

You see, governor, I don't quite see how we can 
manage without you. Flo was very nervous about 
what you might say. 

103 



GENERAL 
She was, was she? 

PHILIP 

Flo is a d d good sort of a girl, and I don't see 

what objection you can have to her. 

GENERAL 

Objection to Flo ! I have no objection to Flo in 
her place. Fact is, I love Flo as if she were my own 
child. 

PHILIP 

Yes, and the very moment you have a chance of 
making her your own child you fly out about it? 

GENERAL 

Silence! I won't have your insolence! You are 
as big a fool this year as you have in former years 
been a knave. Flo is in no position to think of 
marrying. She— her family— are practically depend- 
ent on my charity, and I am surprised that she 
should so far have forgotten her position as to have 
encouraged you in your folly. 

PHILIP 

Oh, she did not encourage me. It was I who 
encouraged her. 

104 



GENERAL 



Oh, you encouraged her, did you? Well, I will see 
if I can't explain to her where your encouragement 
would lead her to. Fact is, I'll soon cure the girl of 
her malady, if it is nothing but that. 



PHILIP 

Had you not better finish with me before you go 
for her? 



GENERAL 

I have nothing more to say to you. You are not 
in a position to marry Florence Bentley, and she is 
not in any way a desirable match for you. Quite 
apart from her unfortunate affliction, which alone 
should prevent her marrying, her people are not our 
social equals and she is penniless. 

PHILIP 

That is not her fault— you've told her so many a 
time. 

GENERAL 

Florence has lived in my house in the position of 
a paid servant, and if I have treated her with the 
same kindness that I should treat my own daughter 
with 

105 



PHILIP 

You brought her up as a lady, and you can't expect 
her to marry a labourer. 

GENERAL 

I did it for the sake of her father, who was as 
splendid a soldier as ever lived, but a common 
sergeant. Do you hear! And you a St. George! I 
educated and cared for her out of affection and pity 
for the orphan, but assuredly not to make her the 
wife of my only son. This marriage of yours will 
not take place ! 

PHILIP 
Well, governor, I don't see my way out of it. 

GENERAL 

You leave that to me, my boy. Fact is, I will soon 
make the girl understand why you cannot marry her. 
Marry her ! If it comes to that, your behaviour with 
Miss Watson last night didn't look much like marry- 
ing Florence Bentley. 

PHILIP 

A fellow can't always be hanging about after the 
girl he is going to marry. She'd soon be sick of him. 
Besides^ Miss Watson is a ripper I 
io6 



GENERAL 

She is a delightful girl ! There is a wife for you, 
my boy! Now, why not try your luck there? Get 
rid of this silly fancy for Flo, which will never lead 
to anything, and see if you can't win the affections of 
Miss Watson. Fact is, if you only could persuade her 
to marry you, it would indeed be a piece of good luck 
for you, and j^ou would mdke your old father very 
happy. 

PHILIP 
I suppose Miss Watson is infernally rich? 

GENERAL 

I should imagine she must be very well off indeed, 
to judge from what I have gathered from her mother 
about their home. Besides, the American Minister in 
Paris gave me a most excellent account of them. 
Fact is, they are quite first-class people. Although I 
do certainly not look upon these considerations as 
paramount, they nevertheless must be weighed in a 
question of marriage. Don't be a fool, Phil. [Slaps 
his back.] Go in and win I And if you do, I'll set 
you up handsomely, my boy, that I will ! 

PHILIP 

And I suppose I shall get nothing if I marry Flo? 

107 



GENERAL 

Confound it ! I simply forbid your ever mention- 
ing her name again in that connection. Do you hear 
me? 

PHILIP 

Yes, I hear. Still, I don't see how I can get out of 
it. You should not have left us alone all these 
months. 

GENERAL 

Stuff and nonsense! You have lived together all 
your lives. How can my absence have made this 
difference? You were children together, were 
brought up together. Fact is, she has been to you 
as a sister. 

PHILIP 

Well, you see, you were not here for her to look 
after, and so she looked after me, and as there was no 
one else for me to look after I looked after her ; that 
is how we got to care for each other in that way. 
Anyhow, it's too late now to change things, and I 
don't see how I can help marrying the girl. 

GENERAL 

Phil! Phil! You don't mean that ! For God's 

sake say it is not so! Phil, Phil! This is very 

wrong of you ! My old sergeant's daughter, whom 

he entrusted to my care in his dying hour, and my 

1 08 



own son— under my roof! Oh, Phil, what have you 
done? 

PHILIP 
I am willing to marry her. 

GENERAL 

And what good can there be in such a marriage? 
Would she ever have your respect as a wife, having 
been your mistress? Oh, Phil, what have you done, 
what have you done? 

PHILIP 

I am sorry— I was an ass, I suppose. It can't be 
helped now, and I shall have to go on with it— make 
the best of a bad job. 

GENERAL 

Make the best of a bad job? That is the spirit in 
which you are prepared to enter into the holiest of 
all ties that bind human beings together ! Oh, Phil, 
you have made a hard bed for yourself to lie on ! 

KATE, entering excitedly. 

KATE 

Oh, sir, Miss Bentley has gone— gone away! I 
found this. 

109 



GENERAL 

Gone, you say. gone? But where? 

[He opens the letter and reads. 

"My dear fatherly Friend,— i^or^u-e me, I 
beg and beseech you, for the trouble and anxiety I 
am, alas! compelled to cause you— a poor return 
for your great and unvarying kindness. From the 
bottom of my heart 1 thank you again and again. 
With burning shame, I feel myself to be the ungrate- 
fid recipient of bounties and benefits untold. Oh, if 
you could only even noiv bring yourself to think of 
me kindly ! When the great love of my life first 
came to me I put it aside, for I could not help seeing 
its icorldly advantages— the security it offered to 
me and mine, and ivith that all the unfitness of it. 
As I grew blinder and blinder the temptation became 
greater and greater. At first the terror came on 
sloidy, but then it increased ivith giant steps, until 
the veil was almost closed before my eyes. Consider 
ichat this meant for me and mine ! But before God 
Isivear to you it was not until I was sure beyond 
all doubt that I loved ivith all my heart and soul, 
devotedly and entirely, that I could tolerate your 
son's advances. All that followed was inevitable. 
If he had been incapable of fidelity to others, he 
should, he must, be true to me, and so I stooped 
In my dying hour I beg of you to forgive me.^^ 
no 



Dying ! For God's sake, what does she mean— what 
has happened? 

[KATE is sobbing, philip deathly pale and silent 

[Continuing.] '' I beg of you also not to let my 
mother come to harm. Poor soul, the neivs of my 
end will be terrible enough for her. Good-bye, God 
bless you.— Your child, Florence Bentley." 

Where can she be? What can she have done? 
Can she still be saved ? What do you know of this, 
Phil? 

[A shriek is heard from the garden.] 
GENERAL 

What is that? One of the ladies? 
PHILIP 

[Rushing to the icindoiu.] Miss Watson 

GENERAL 

Oh, my God! ray God! 

[Enter miss watson, breathless, pale, and 
terribly frightened ; she sits doivn speech- 
less, pointing toward the garden. 

MRS. WATSON 

[Following.] A terrible accident has happened. 
Miss Bentley is dead — is drowned ! 



MISS WATSON 

We saw it there, floating- on the lake. It seemed a 
huge white swan, with its head under water. It was 
out in the middle of the lake, in the sun, dazzling 
white. And I called the gardener, but he could not 
say what it was. 

KATE 
Yes, and then 

MISS WATSON 

They opened the sluices at the side of the terrace 
there, and as the water rushed down the brook the 
white thing was borne towards us on the flood. Then 
we saw it was a human form. There was long dark 
hair floating out behind in the wake, and her face was 
pale and terrible. 

[She hides her face, sobbing, in MRS. watson's 
bosom. Both are entirely overcome. 

MRS. WATSON 
My poor child, my poor child ! calm yourself. 

MISS WATSON 

Mother! mother! 

[Silence, during ivhich thetj compose them- 
selves. 

112 



GENERAL 

[Bearing up ivith evident effort.] My friends, -we 
are face to face with an awful tragedy. Fact is, this 
is no accident. This is almost murder. 

KATE 
Don't, sir, don't! 

GENERAL 

Silence, girl, and answer my questions. What 
took place in this room last night, after 1 had gone to 
bed? 

KATE 

I came in, sir, to put out the lights. I found Miss 
Bentley on her knees at Master Phil's door, begging 
him to let her in. He called out to her that it would 
be too risky now that you, sir, had come home. 
Then I saw that she had won his heart— she thought 
she had, if he has a heart — and I was reckless and 
told her all. 

[MRS. WATSON leads her daughter on to the 
terrace. 

GENERAL 
Told her all ! What did you tell her? 
113 



/ 



KATE 

[In tears.] That he used to be my lover— that he is 
my baby's father. 

GENERAL 

[As if about to strike philip.] You hound! 
[Breaking doivn.] You are not my son. Go — go— to 
hell! 

[PHILIP makes a movement as if to leave the 
room. 
Stay ! First hear what I'v^e got to say ! 

PHILIP 

To be told that I am cut off with a shilling! It is 
not my fault that she has drowned herself. I wanted 
to do the right thing— you know I did. I was very 
fond of poor Flo, very fond. 

GENERAL 

Fond! You don't know what love is, or purity. 
You are a deceiver, a spoiler — a vermin that eats to 
the core and rots the tree. You have disgraced your 
family — you liave ruined yourself and me. This 
house must be closed, not to be reopened in my life- 
time. Your victim [to kate] and her wretched off- 
spring shall not starve, nor shall they be further 
disgraced. The Lower Farm will be theirs to live on. 
God have pity on you, Kate ! You have done very 
114 



wrong-. Praj' to the Almiglity that He nmy not 
punish you in your child, so that she resemble her 
father. 

KATE 

May Heaven reward you, sir. But, sir, be kind to 
Phil ; forgive him ; forgive him ! 

PHILIP 

Perhaps I had better live at the Lower Farm as 
well. 

GENERAL 

To continue a life of idleness at all cost? Do with- 
out comforts, luxuries— pocket all self-respect— so 
long as you can be idle? No, no, a thousand times 
NO! 

PHILIP 

The Lower Farm is no sinecure, and I don't sup- 
pose Kate 

GENERAL 

Don't concern yourself about Kate. You are to 
leave this place at once — to go out into the world, 
not to return or to be heard of until, through work, 
you have trained yourself to know what human 
responsibility is. 

[Pause.] 

115 



GENERAL 

[Continuing with broken voice.] Go into the world, 
my boy. Atone for the evil you have done. Take 
this as my advice — work, work, work. Fact is, 
there is no blessedness, no goodness, no virtue in 
any one who will not work. See where your idle- 
ness has brought you to! [Hardening.] I cannot 
even know you, until, through work, you have 
atoned. [Turning towards the windoiv.] Ladies! 

MISS WATSON 

[In angry heat, to Philip.] With us in the South 
the people take justice into their own hands when 
the law is not swift enough. They hang men like 
you on the nearest tree. So are women avenged 
with us. [PHILIP backs out of the room.] 

MRS. WATSON 

{Coming forwai^d.] Peace, my child. Waste no 
further words on him, but join me in consoling this 
good and worthy friend of ours. General ! [Offering 
him her hand.] Friend, I am grieved and pained so 
that words fail me. You have been kind and good 
to us. Let us in your great trouble stand by you — 
be your friends, your comforters. Join us on our 
journey. There is a home over the sea ready to 
welcome you. Come with us, General, for a while 
ii6 



at least. It will be easier there to forget, and per- 
haps to forgive ! 

GENERAL 

I am driven out from the home of my ancestors, to 
spend an old age of disgrace and misery among 
strangers. Fact is, I am unfit now to think of again 
serving my Queen. 

MISS WATSON 

[To GENERAL, vevy softly.] Come with us— come 
with us ! 

GENERAL 

Ladies, I thank you. You are right; there is no 
place for me in England. [Taking both their ex- 
tended hands.] Let us continue our journey. 

[The pensioners are observed crowding up the 
terrace from the right. They divide with 
aivestruck reverence as men co7ne up from 
the left bearing on their shoulders a board 
with FLORENCE'S body on it. 



Curtain. 



117 



